


What I Know Now

by crimsonseekers



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ghosts, Kinda?, M/M, Necromancy, Talking To Dead People
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24356035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonseekers/pseuds/crimsonseekers
Summary: “You are nothing more than a hallucination.”“Truly? Is that what you think?” Starscream sounded amused. “Now, why would you be hallucinating me, of all mecha?”“Nothing more than a guilty conscience.”
Relationships: Megatron/Starscream (Transformers)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 143





	What I Know Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neveralarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/gifts).



> Alright! This is my gift fic for neveralarch, who wanted trashy MegaStar!
> 
> This... isn't exactly trashy, it turned a lot more angsty and hurt/comfort than I intended, but I hope it lives up to expectation regardless!

“No,” Megatron said determinedly, swinging his legs off the dinky little couch in the therapist’s office, ignoring the ugly cackle that sounded in his audials as he sat up. “Enough’s enough. _Two hours_ listening to you tell me why I used to wear a _giant weapon_ on my arm. I hate to disappoint you, Rung, but sometimes a fusion cannon is just a fusion cannon.”

Rung frowned minutely, but Megatron was distracted by the measured voice whispering just behind him, with a softness regained after it’s shrieking laughing fit. “Is a fusion cannon simply a fusion cannon? You wrote of it quite extensively. What was it Tarn liked to quote all the time? _‘My weapon is my burden: a reminder of the path I was forced to take.’”_

“Let’s try a _different tack,_ shall we?” Rung said, oblivious to the vocalizer Megatron knew only he could hear. “Significant encounters. The three most influential figures in your life: who were they, and how did your paths cross?”

_“You and I_ first met a long time ago.”

Rung sighed, and the voice behind Megatron chuckled. “I’m not your first thought? Now, that’s just insulting.”

“Maccadam’s Oil House,” Megatron continued, ignoring either response. “Fourth cycle four ninety-six.”

“I don’t recall.”

“I suppose you _were_ unconscious. You were thrown onto my table by two cadets.”

“Did you say fourth cycle four ninety-six?” Rung asked, almost rhetorically as he leaned back to pick up a different datapad off the shelf above his desk. “According to this, you spent the night in a police cell in _Rodion,_ where you were assaulted by _‘a one-eyed guard.’”_

“Is that…?”

_“‘Towards Peace.’_ Your _autobiography.”_

“Don’t call it that-” Megatron snapped, and an amused snicker once again lit up in his audials, “- you make it sound _small._ You make _me_ sound small. I was writing a polemic. I was going to change the world.”

“You did.”

Megatron paused, his grip on the couch crumpling the metal beneath his fingers. He let his eyes fall on the sleek, red figure sitting smugly on Rung’s desk, legs crossed and kibble fluttering in mirth.

“I suppose so,” he said softly, anger suddenly draining from his being. “But not for the better.”

Starscream laughed.

* * *

Megatron was losing his mind. That was the _only_ logical, reasonable explanation he could come up with for some phantom ghost of _Starscream_ suddenly showing up out of nowhere.

Megatron didn’t believe in _ghosts._ He especially didn’t believe in ghosts of _dead mechs._

“I don’t quite understand what you hope to gain by holding the trial on Luna 2,” the hallucination mused. “Is this a simple grab for time to try and prepare whatever pathetic defense you can come up with?”

“You are nothing more than a hallucination,” Megatron stated for what felt to be the hundredth time since he started seeing Starscream everywhere.

“Truly? Is that what you think?” Starscream sounded amused. “Now, why would you be hallucinating me, of all mecha?”

“Nothing more than a guilty conscience.”

“Guilty? You?” Starscream had a mirthless smirk on his face as he examined his claws, briefly flashing Megatron a humorless stare. “It’s four million years too late for you to start having a guilty conscience. How did you discover all this _guilt?_ By the words of some Autobot? By the convincing of _Bumblebee,_ your new _friend?”_

Megatron offlined his optics and tilted his head back, refusing to respond to the barbs.

He heard a _hmph,_ and could clearly imagine Starscream putting his hands on his hips, tilting his head mockingly at him. “How pathetic you’ve become.”

* * *

“You’re not going to get anywhere treating them like that,” Starscream muttered as he walked at a clipped pace alongside Megatron, seemingly not noticing the way the edge of his sank into the wall ever so slightly. “You’re doomed to failure.”

“And what makes you so confident about that?” Megatron asked lowly, keeping his voice quiet despite the empty corridor. “It’s not as if you’ve ever been particularly successful at leadership yourself, Starscream.” He considered the arrow in his hand and the gaping hole in his abdomen, before changing his course towards the _Lost Light’s_ medbay.

“I won an election - I was elected by popular choice.”

“You mean to tell me you did nothing to meddle in such an election?”

The seeker huffed. “Either way, even if I did meddle, it’s certainly something I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to do with your reputation and,” Starscream gave him a sideways glance, not even bothering to hide the sneer on his face, “looking like _that.”_

Megatron rumbled. “At least people can see me at all, unlike you, Starscream.”

The hallucination scowled and disappeared from Megatron’s sight.

He snorted. His hallucination was almost as temperamental as the real one had been.

* * *

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting Bumblebee to be quite that defensive of you,” Starscream mused, looking bored as he sat against the wall of Megatron’s cell. “Optimus certainly looked shaken by the opinion of his little protege.”

“Disappointed, Starscream? Afraid you’ll never see me executed now?”

“Who says I ever wanted to see you executed?” Starscream was amused again - the seeker seemed to be taking far too much joy in watching Megatron’s predicament. “No, I want to see you deteriorate in a cell for eternity, with nothing to do but reflect on what you’ve done wrong. I want you to _suffer_ in your own mind.” he snarled. “Death would be a mercy.”

* * *

Megatron struggled to truly ascertain the purpose of his hallucination of Starscream. If the seeker were truly a product of his guilty conscience, then he seemed to be feeling forms of subconscious guilt at the strangest of times. Namely, whenever his Starscream chose to show up and mock him for whatever reason he could find that day - chipped paint nobody would even notice, his face being almost permanently settled in a scowl, the way he talked.

Petty things, really.

It was exactly the way the real Starscream would needle him for everything.

Yet, ever so occasionally, his hallucination would appear and ask him questions before leaving with a puzzled, yet condescending expression all the same.

“What you said on that alternate _Lost Light,”_ Starscream had said once, “when you were talking to Ravage. Did you mean it?”

“About thinking of myself as a monster?” Megatron asked lowly.

“You implied that you felt regret for the person you’d become,” Starscream noted, examining his claws.

“Yes.”

Starscream quirked his head, a mean smirk easily sliding across his face. “Now _that’s_ rich. Less than a year after you kidnap me for moving on in my life, and you attempt to revive the Decepticons, you suddenly decide that it’s time for all of us to take a _new path.”_ His smirk smoothly shifted to a scowl, glancing up from his claws to glare at Megatron. “You are beyond self-centered as a person - you are the most selfish being in this universe, and I say that with utmost confidence.”

Megatron growled, opening his mouth to say that the _really_ rich thing was _Starscream_ saying that, before the seeker cut him off with a shushing motion and continuing.

“Why is it only appropriate for us to decide to move on when _you_ say so?” he asked bitingly. “You don’t seem to understand that not everything is about you. Peace was declared, and some of us had begun moving on with our lives. The war was _over._ Then you waltz in and decide that no, the war’s not over until _you_ say so.” He sneered. _“I_ look out for myself. I may be selfish, but I am selfish in that I want to survive and thrive. _You_ are selfish in that you’re a revolutionary gone too far, desperately seeking out attention and throwing a fit when the discussion doesn’t involve and revolve around you.”

Megatron clenched his fist, feeling the oh-so-familiar visceral _anger_ at Starscream’s mere existence arise deep within him-

“And when you don’t like it,” Starscream hissed, “you _lash out._ You hit what you cannot solve with your mind, unwilling to accept what doesn’t exist in your narrow world view. Trust me,” the seeker purred maliciously, “I would know. I’ve been on the receiving end often enough to know - and you expect me to believe that you feel regret _now,_ that you’ve decided to change _now?”_ Starscream glanced at his fist. “Go ahead. Hit me. Beat me until I’m wrong.”

Megatron paused and stared at Starscream for a long, tense moment.

Slowly, he loosened his hand, the fist it was balled into losing its form.

“No,” he said quietly, dimming his optics as he looked at Starscream’s startled face. “I may not be better yet, but I will not allow you to goad me into repeating my past mistakes.”

It was the only time Megatron had walked out on his hallucination before it could do so to him.

* * *

His hallucination, Megatron decided over time, was frighteningly real. Sometimes Starscream would say something to him while he was in a room with others, and he could barely keep himself from responding to the seeker before his processor could remind him that the Starscream he was talking to _wasn’t real._

The real Starscream was dead.

However, when he was the only one the hallucination of Starscream could interact with, it seemed that he tired of doing nothing but attempting to draw Megatron into disagreements all the time.

Occasionally, their conversations bordered on levity.

“Remind me why you’re trying to find that insane helicopter’s arm again?” Starscream asked, inspecting and picking at non-existent grime in his claws.

“I need an escape plan if everything goes wrong,” Megatron murmured, optics dimmed as he attempted to concentrate on the connection of the space bridge within his body.

“Doesn’t that go against your whole ‘redemption’ idea?” he mused distractedly. “Trying to escape implies some form of guilt or scheme, does it not?”

“You heard what they tried to do to me with Brainstorm’s time machine,” the old warlord growled. “If they try such a thing again, I must be able to ensure my safety. I _refuse_ to allow myself to be killed like that.”

“And what? You can’t just force your way out through brute strength?” Starscream laughed. “You’ve changed far more than I realized these past few months if your first thought is to _escape,_ not _exact revenge,”_ he purred, giving him a maliciously amused look in his peripheral.

“Violence isn’t the answer, Starscream,” Megatron said tiredly, in an almost defeated tone. He turned his head slightly to fully look at the seeker, who had paused in his grooming as Megatron spoke. “I think what I did to you and what happened between us is more than proof of that.”

Starscream stayed still for a few moments more, before tilting his head slightly, giving Megatron a look of consideration out of the corner of his optic.

“You admit that the way you treated me was wrong?” he asked quietly.

“Given time to reflect on it, yes.” Starscream turned his head to stare blankly at Megatron as he spoke. “There were far better ways I could have dealt with and rectified your insubordination early on, instead of lashing out and allowing our relationship to deteriorate to the point it did.” Megatron quirked his lips humorlessly. “I should have at least attempted to listen to your concerns, and now I suppose I never will,” he mused. “You’re dead now. Almost every mistake in leading the Decepticons I have ever made has at some point led back to you, and now my guilty conscience thinks of you to remind me of them.”

Starscream stared at him for several minutes.

Megatron started to think that perhaps his subconscious mind didn’t know how to respond to such an admission of wrongdoing. Perhaps his mind was deteriorating as he aged.

“You speak a big game,” Starscream murmured eventually, dimming his optics and tilting his head back slightly to look at the ceiling of Megatron’s quarters. “You clearly understand why I hate you.” Starscream paused, cocking his head in a thoughtful manner before finally returning his gaze to Megatron. “You say you’ve learned from your mistakes, but I’ll be the judge of that,” he said decisively. “You’ve apologized to me before, and I want to be sure that this isn’t something you’ll go back on the moment I’m gone.”

“I’m done with violence, Starscream,” Megatron said, bowing his head exhaustedly. “I’m aging, and the energon they feed me weakens this body that already doesn’t graft to my spark as well as the others. I don’t want to live out the rest of my life with this endless guilt weighing down on myself as well.”

“I don’t think there’s anything you could ever do to make up for what you’ve done,” the seeker responded bluntly.

Megatron suppressed a flinch at the words and bit his glossa to prevent a retort.

Starscream wasn’t wrong.

He wasn’t wrong in the slightest.

“But I suppose the effort is amusing in and of itself,” Starscream laughed, drawing Megatron’s attention back to him. “You step one pede wrong from here on out, and I will never let you forget it. Anything you do or have ever done wrong, remember,” he said, gesturing down at himself. “You’ve decided that I’m a representation of all your mistakes, as insulting as that is. As far as I can tell, I’m here to stay. And trust me, I’m just _waiting_ for an excuse to make your life miserable.”

Megatron chuckled, and Starscream smiled sardonically at him.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he murmured softly. “But it is only fair, given what I have done.”

Megatron looked up, making optic contact with the seeker.

“No more violence, Starscream,” Megatron said solemnly. “I promise.”

* * *

“I can’t just sit by and do nothing,” Megatron had said to Starscream on his first night stuck in the Functionist universe. “They’re a bunch of rowdy civilians trying to rebel against an organized and ruthless government, at best.”

“What happened to the whole ‘warlording days are behind me,’ and ‘no more violence’?” Starscream asked, sprawled across the berth he had been given as Megatron paced the length of the quarters.

“I can’t let them make the same mistakes I did - _I_ won’t make the same mistakes I did.”

“Are you sure about that?” Starscream asked, glancing at him, unimpressed. “You seem to have a habit of repeating your mistakes, even when told you’re wrong.”

Megatron stilled in his pacing, glancing at Starscream, who looked up at him at the sudden silence.

“Starscream,” Megatron murmured after a moment, “if I knew then what I know now-”

_“You shouldn’t have had to!”_ Starscream hissed, shooting off the berth to growl into Megatron’s face. “It shouldn’t have taken you four million years to realize that what you were doing was wrong. That you’d gone too far. That you _didn’t know when to stop.”_

Megatron stared down at Starscream, his snarling face, and considered his next words carefully.

“A council, then,” he said eventually.

Starscream rebooted his optics, leaning back slightly from his confrontational position. His wings flapped and ruffled slightly downward from their aggressive hike as Megatron talked.

“A council that can approve or veto decisions, each member in charge of a different part of the rebellion - each with an equal say.”

“And what happens when they reach a decision you dislike?” Starscream asked him mockingly, a sneer on his face. “You use the brute force of your army to force them into compliance?”

“No,” Megatron said softly. “I don’t intend to be in charge of any of the armed forces.”

“Really?” Starscream asked skeptically, wings canting at the same angle as his head as he tilted his helm. “Then what do you intend to be in charge of?”

Megatron smiled at him.

* * *

“That looks an awful lot like a fusion cannon,” Starscream muttered warningly, looking over Megatron’s shoulder at the designs he worked at. “I let you get away with it once, but I seriously doubt those idiot soldiers are going to let anybody reach you without a fight.”

“It’s not a fusion cannon, Starscream,” Megatron responded. He tapped to a different file of the design, revealing the compartments it held when unfolded. “It’s a medical kit.”

Starscream paused at that, still leaning over his shoulder, and gave him a long searching look.

Eventually, he shrugged.

“Fine, then.”

* * *

It was a century into Megatron’s time in the Functionist universe that Starscream began to spend extended amounts of time around Megatron whenever he hadn’t done something to warrant a scathing remark.

It was four centuries in when Megatron realized that Starscream hadn’t snapped at him for being a maniacal idiot for almost six months.

It was five centuries when Starscream began to stay up late in the night with Megatron, going over various battle plans proposed by the council of the rebellion, helping him map out distribution of medical supplies and personnel.

It was just over eight centuries when Starscream tried to touch Megatron.

It had been a late night cycle, with Starscream sprawled, floating just over Megatron’s lap in order to read the datapads spread across the table. It was a neat system they had set up - Megatron was far taller than Starscream, and could easily read over the top of his ghostly visage, unlike if it were to be the other way around.

It had mostly been a compromise to get to Starscream to stop complaining at length about the odd positions he was forced to float in in order to be of any help.

Megatron didn’t remember the exact exchange - it was almost certainly a given that Starscream had muttered something about the other council members being idiots, and Megatron issued a reprimand.

Starscream had whacked him distractedly - or rather, he tried to, his hand simply phasing through Megatron’s chassis, straight through the Autobot symbol proudly soldered on in the middle.

They both froze, staring at the offending appendage blankly.

After a moment, Starscream sharply withdrew his arm, blinking out of existence before Megatron could say a word to him.

It was odd, Megatron supposed.

He certainly forgot Starscream was a hallucination sometimes.

He guessed Starscream forgot that, too.

* * *

Starscream didn’t linger that close to Megatron’s physical form again, after that encounter, and things continued on as normal, even after they had returned to the _Lost Light._

Things carried on as normal.

Until they didn’t.

Until they really, _really_ didn’t.

“Guess who just invented a ghost detector!” Brainstorm cheered as he barrelled onto the bridge, an exasperated Perceptor following behind. “No need to guess! It’s me, resident genius, of course.”

“It simply detects residual spark energy - or a ‘ghost’ as Brainstorm is so determined to call it,” Perceptor explained.

“But that’s not the important part, Percy!” Brainstorm whined, a beeping noise sounded from his so-called ‘ghost detector’ as he waved it around. “There’s a ghost on the _Lost Light!”_

“Allegedly.”

“Are you doubting my science?” Brainstorm cried, aghast. “I thought we were Simpatico!”

“Alright, stop being mushy, you two,” Rodimus interrupted, bouncing up to them with excitement. Megatron simply cycled his optics at the exchange, disregarding the way that Starscream had stilled in his peripheral vision, watching the interaction. “Now: ghost on the _Lost Light._ Who, where, when, how?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Brainstorm said. “Luckily for you, I can answer them! Once I find the ghost, that is.”

“And how do we find this ghost?” Rodimus asked, smiling.

“We just follow the beeping!” the scientist said proudly, ignoring the tired sigh from his courtmate at the casual language. “That’s why we’re here, we think the ghost is on the bridge!”

“Where?” Rodimus asked excitedly, optics scanning the wide area of the bridge excitedly.

Brainstorm held up a hand, staring at the scanner intensely, before slowly beginning to walk around the room in an odd pattern, changing direction whenever the beeping of his ghost detector slowed.

“Here!” he eventually called, regaining the attention of those working on the bridge. Megatron looked up, having stopped watching after the first few minutes, and felt his spark stop.

Standing almost awkwardly in front of Brainstorm and Perceptor’s ‘ghost detector,’ was Starscream.

“Who do you think it is?” Rodimus asked, staring at the spot in awe.

Megatron stood up slowly, lumbering over to the gaggle of ‘bots, not once breaking optic contact with the seeker.

“Working on that,” Brainstorm muttered, even as Perceptor cycled his optics at him. He fiddled with a few dials on the detector, static crackling out of the speaker. “Hypothetically, if I tune this right, we can talk to the ghost!”

“Starscream,” Megatron said, finally getting his vocalizer to work. The others slowly looked at him, confused. “The ghost is Starscream,” he repeated confidently.

“Why would it be Starscream?” Perceptor asked. “As far as I am aware, is it not commonly accepted that ghosts remain around the area at which they offlined?”

“Yeah,” Rodimus agreed. “Starscream never came on the _Lost Light,_ why would he want to spend his afterlife here?”

“I can hear you, you know,” came an odd, echoing voice. Megatron returned his attention to Brainstorm, who seemed equally as startled as the other two.

Starscream’s voice sounded from both his mouth, and echoed out a split second later from Brainstorm’s device. He smirked as he talked, seeming to take great amusement in the shocked looks of the three, who simply stared at the spot that he resided at.

“It’s not the _Lost Light_ I’m tied to,” he said. “It’s the big lug with the stupid bucket head I’m stuck with.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, they all turned to stare at Megatron.

* * *

After suffering a long lecture from Velocity and First Aid about not seeing a medical professional if he thought he was hallucinating - no, it  _ didn’t _ matter if it turned out to be a ghost, he didn’t know that at the time - he managed to track down Brainstorm again and ask him a question.

If a ghost was residual spark energy, was it possible to infuse that energy into a new frame?

More explicitly stating, was it possible to bring Starscream back?

Brainstorm didn’t know but was positively  _ exploding _ at the possibility.

Needless to say, within a few months of the project being proposed, a replica of Starscream’s frame laid in the middle of the labs, being inspected by Velocity, Ratchet, and Perceptor to ensure that it would  _ actually _ work, while Brainstorm excitedly explained the concepts behind it to Starscream.

The seeker didn’t look particularly interested in the specifics of the project, more so about whether it would actually  _ work, _ but it wasn’t as if Brainstorm could see that. Only hear Starscream’s disinterested hums and grunts in response, and it wasn’t as if the jet was too good at picking up social cues to begin with.

With a final check from Perceptor on the process (“It’s unconventional, certainly, but it could certainly work,”), Starscream shot one last, indecipherable look at Megatron, and phased into the limp frame on the table. 

Once Megatron confirmed to Ratchet and Velocity that Starscream had, indeed, immersed himself in the frame, they began to intently watch the monitors attached.

There were a few quiet minutes before one of the monitors gave a weak beeping noise.

And then another.

And another.

And soon, it was beating in a steady rhythm.

Ratchet and Velocity worked steadily but kept trading disbelieving looks while Brainstorm celebrated, hanging off an impressed looking Perceptor.

They’d brought some back to  _ life. _

Megatron stood still, watching Starscream’s frame steadily, optics roaming, no longer able to see through the surface of his wings, his smooth, lean body now opaque with color.

When Starscream’s optics slowly flickered online, however, Megatron stepped forward, kneeling by the medberth.

The others in the room seemed to sense a kind of tension as the two made optic contact, stepping back slightly, though Ratchet hovered, keeping a sharp watch on the monitors.

After several silent moments, Megatron slowly reached out, lacing his large, blocky fingers with the seeker’s slim, weak digits.

Starscream’s vents hiccupped at the contact, optics flaring while his wings fluttered minutely enough to barely be called a vibration.

“Careful,” Ratchet murmured. “He hasn’t been able to touch anything for hundreds of years if he was stuck in the Funcitonist universe with you. Don’t go causing him sensory overload.”

Megatron filed what the medic said to the back of his mind, focusing on the weak grip of Starscream’s fingers as they clenched around his own.

“Starscream,” he said softly.

The seeker hummed, his vocalizer crackling as he attempted to speak.

“No getting rid of your guilty subconscious, now,” he muttered. “You’re stuck with me forever.”

Megatron laughed at the remark, Starscream smirking at him from where he laid prone.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
